Chapter 314: Chapter 314: Fashion tips
The valet hadn’t even straightened from announcing Benjamin when another chime rolled through the foyer, lower and more deliberate this time. A second door opened. This time the staff didn’t speak first; they simply stepped back as if making way for a weather front.
Trevor entered first, all languid elegance and violet eyes that swept the room like a blade. His shirt was still open at the throat, but nothing about him felt informal. Behind him came Milo, his pace unhurried by the quiet weight of old authority at his back. And at Milo’s shoulder, Andrew.
Andrew walked as if he’d been crossing palace thresholds all his life. No hesitation, no quick glances for cues; the prosecutor’s posture had been traded for a nobleman’s stride, his dark hair immaculate, his glasses catching the light. To anyone who didn’t know better, the three of them looked less like unconventional allies and more like a unit returning to its own court.
Mia’s stylus froze above her screen.
Everin’s measuring tape went still against her arm.
Lucas, still seated at the dressing table, looked up into the mirror and caught Andrew’s reflection first. A glint of satisfaction flickered through his green eyes, so brief that only Serathine caught it. She set her teacup down, smiling softly and knowing.
"Right on time," Lucas murmured.
Benjamin turned with a little flourish, scarf swinging, his expression lighting up as he took in the trio. "Ah, reinforcements," he said under his breath. "And dressed for war, no less."
Trevor’s gaze flicked once over the room, Serathine’s poise, Cressida’s pearls, Mia’s tablet still clutched like a shield, and Benjamin in full theater, before coming to rest on Lucas. "We weren’t going to let you start the show without us," he said, his tone smooth.
Andrew inclined his head slightly, eyes calm behind the lenses. "Or without putting faces to the names your guests will be whispering about," he added, his voice carrying just enough to reach everyone present.
Lucas rose at last, straightening the purple tie Everin had just knotted, and smiled faintly. "Perfect," he said. "Now they’ll think you’ve been here all along."
"Purple again?" Trevor asked with the smugness of a man knowing full well how loved he was by his spouse.
Lucas’s mouth curved in an echo of that smugness. "Maybe. Mia is the next victim; she needs a coordinated attire," he said, already tugging the knot loose and slipping the tie back off with a careless flick of his fingers. "Everin will find something to match."
Mia stared at him over the rim of her tablet. "Victim? You’re not dressing me like one of your ties."
Everin’s tape measure was already snapping back into his palm, eyes gleaming. "On the contrary, Lady Mia. A coordinated palette is the foundation of credibility. If you’re going to look as if you’ve always stood beside him, the color story must agree."
Lucas gave her a wicked little smile. "See? Even Everin says so."
Mia groaned softly but pushed herself up from the chair, muttering, "I calibrate signal arrays for a living, not wardrobes... but fine." Her stylus hovered over the tablet one last time before she set it down. "If this is how you sell the illusion, let’s sell it properly."
"Excellent, let’s burn your actual wardrobe down first. That is horrendous," Everin said with a wide smile.
Mia made a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a laugh. "Horrendous? I want to see you do something better with the same budget and no talent in sewing."
Everin gasped theatrically, clutching his tape measure to his chest. "Budget? Sewing? My dear Lady Mia, you wound me. I don’t ’sew’; I conjure reputations. Now, arms up."
Lucas leaned an elbow on the back of her chair, green eyes glinting. "Careful, Everin. She actually knows her specs and tolerances. If you don’t impress her, she’ll run a diagnostic on your entire process."
Mia tilted her chin up a little, the corners of her mouth betraying the start of a smile. "He’d better. Dax already bribed me once with a designer dress and dinner with Chris. I’m expecting at least that level of treatment."
Everin recovered instantly, the tablet already flipping through digital lookbooks. "Good. You’re a client with taste. Tall frame, sharp features, warm undertones, jewel tones, sleek cuts, and subtle pheromone-diffusing fabrics. We’ll have you reading ’old money’ before dessert."
Trevor’s low chuckle drifted across the room. "She’s already more eager than half the people I’ve had to dress for a presentation."
Andrew watched the interplay with calm amusement. "She’s also negotiating her upgrade in real time," he murmured.
"Negotiating?" Mia asked, raising a brow. "I call it quality assurance."
Lucas smirked. "Call it whatever you want. By the time Everin’s done, you’ll look like you’ve been at my side for years."
Everin snapped the tape measure back with a flourish. "And enjoy every second of it. Now, shoes."
Mia’s eyes brightened despite herself. "Show me."
Trevor’s violet eyes glinted with amusement. "She hasn’t even seen the handbags yet."
Mia’s grin widened. "There are handbags?"
Lucas’s smile turned positively feral. "Oh, there are handbags."
Everin snapped his fingers and a footman appeared with two garment bags and a low box. "Handbags, shoes, belts, scents... everything you need to look as though you were born to this life," he declared. "Now, arms up. Posture. Breathe."
Mia obeyed with an exaggerated sigh, but her fingers were already reaching for the edge of the box. "This feels like a hostage situation," she muttered, though her eyes were shining.
"Hostages don’t get calf-skin clutches and limited-edition heels," Everin said cheerfully, draping a bolt of deep teal fabric over her shoulder. "Tilt your chin, please. Yes. Perfect. They’re going to think you’ve been sitting front row at fashion week since birth."
Across the room, Lucas had moved back toward the mirror, with Trevor, Andrew, and Milo forming a quiet knot behind him. Their voices were low, their eyes flicking occasionally toward Mia and Everin as the stylist worked.
"She’s already sold," Andrew murmured, watching Mia’s fingers brush the soft leather of a bag. "Good. That makes our story easier."
"She’s also arguing for sport now," Trevor replied dryly. "Dax did well to bait her with that dinner."
Lucas fastened a cufflink, green eyes glinting. "She’ll look like she belongs by the time she walks out of here," he said. "And half the hall will wonder why they never noticed her before."
Behind them Mia’s voice rose again, mock-exasperated. "These heels are higher than my old pay grade!"
Serathine’s chuckle glided across the room, low and smooth. She set her teacup back onto its saucer and tilted her head toward the makeshift dressing corner. "Higher is better," she murmured. "Let them look up when they try to talk down to you."
Cressida’s pearls caught the light as she shifted in her armchair, eyes gleaming with a predator’s amusement. "And nothing unsettles a room faster than a woman who wears impossible shoes without blinking," she said. "Everin, make sure she learns to walk in them before the doors open."
Everin pressed a hand to his chest in mock offence. "Duchesses, please. Do you doubt me? She will glide."
Mia muttered something about gliding straight into a concussion, but her fingers lingered on the soft leather of the shoe as Everin adjusted the strap.
Across the room Trevor’s violet eyes flicked between Serathine and Cressida, then back to Lucas. "They’re already giving her the playbook," he said under his breath.
Andrew’s mouth curved faintly. "Good. She’ll need every tip they can give her."